sunflower seeds and that time i shot a bird

i see the smashing glass

the blood cracking through your eyes

sad thoughts make me swallow hard,

scouting the deep silences for some kind of heartbeat

and yet i find nothing.

...

my heartbeat remains rhythmic

and i shove hard against every threatening silence

keep it drowned among the screams i keep imagining

...

is there something else i am not aware of yet?

it is the shaking.

it must be.

there was someone else

you took too long

and the words you whispered were met only with my wailing stares.

...

something falls to my lap

it echoes my silences

and it shakes, too,

as if you were not mine to destroy,

as if i should not be finally left to whistle alone,

not mimicked by an uncanny feeling

something too sweet

and gentle

only to be left for the rats.

...

not even the crows care for what you've done.

...

as we shake ourselves alone,

we mock each other,

an unspoken fight for your tears once more

but nothing comes of it

of course,

it is simply a way to forget

forget the red

red

red

and all the plastic diamonds we might have seen.

...

do baby birds know how to stop shaking?

...

i search my heart

my soul

tasting salt,

the angry tang of vinegar

is that what you wanted within me?

to caress the greater world

to endure the tidal waves of sweetness?

but only til eight crows came

of course

and they would have pecked your hollow eyes.

...

if everything is left to become nothing

we realised,

then we are left circled and watched forever

by the endless swirls of black and silver

a reminder within their yellow eyes

that we

are

completely expendable.